


Pillow Talk

by pique



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bickering, Complicated Relationships, FC Barcelona, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Mild Sexual Content, Real Madrid CF, Sharing a Bed, Spanish National Team, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pique/pseuds/pique
Summary: It makes no sense to Sergio, this game he and Geri are playing, always teetering somewhere between hot and cold, never quite knowing where they stand with each other.[The one where they have to share a bed on international duty... again.]
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/gifts).

> For [amerasu1013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013). I'm sorry it took a little longer than it should've done, but I do hope you enjoy this. It was an absolute pleasure to write for you, so thank you for your prompts!
> 
> Story takes place after [this ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237700/chapters/27459327), where Geri wakes up in bed with Sergio and has no idea how he got there. Timeline wise, it would've occurred somewhere around mid 2017, I suppose, before Sergio had surgery on his recurrent shoulder injury and before Geri left the NT.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me, man.”

Sergio’s lingering a few steps behind Geri when he hears his whiny voice uttering yet another complaint. He suppresses a laugh, somehow mustering the willpower not to add fuel to the fire with a response.

Geri’s been in a rotten mood all night, ever since he found out he and Sergio had been assigned to room together.

Sergio slowly trudges towards the door. “What is it now?” He asks.

Geri stands aside and points inside their room. Sergio’s mouth goes dry. There’s only one bed, and of course, it’s a double.

“There’s obviously been a mix-up,” Geri says. “I’ll go downstairs and see if I can get this sorted out.”

Sergio starts to sweat, and it has nothing to do with the temperature. He reacts instinctively before he can even contemplate the possible implications.

“No!” He shakes his head. “Geri, don’t go downstairs.”

Geri stares at him wide-eyed, biting his lip. “Why not?”

“It’s already well past midnight,” Sergio says, searching his mind for excuses. “I’m tired, my shoulder hurts, and I just want a hot shower and to go to sleep.”

It’s the truth, but perhaps not the whole truth.

There is an awkward, impossibly long silence. Geri’s eyes dart from side to side, and Sergio wishes he could see inside his brain so that he could be privy to whatever he’s thinking.

“It’s not as though we haven’t shared a bed before.” Sergio’s voice is low.

“That was different,” Geri replies, furrowing his brow. “I was drunk; I woke up with you, and I had no fucking idea how I ended up in your room. I still don’t know if you… took advantage of me.”

Sergio’s heart begins to rattle against his ribcage, and he clenches his teeth.

“I can’t believe what you’re implying,” he says curtly, and inwardly, his anger starts simmering. “I looked after you – you were a fucking mess. I was scared you were going to puke while you were by yourself.”

There is a stab in his chest, sudden and acute. Sergio hates the way Geri automatically assumes the worst about him when they’ve known each other all these years. He wants to say_ I did it because I care about you, you idiot,_ but he doesn’t think Geri deserves to hear that yet. Maybe the right time to say it will never come, Sergio reluctantly concedes.

Geri shrugs and purses his lips together. “I’m sure I wasn’t as drunk as you say I was.”

“But you were.”

Geri shakes his head.

“Stop being a dick to me.” Sergio’s voice is abrasive. “I don’t _need_ to take advantage of anyone, least of all you.”

Because if they slept together – if, indeed they _ever_ sleep together – Sergio wants it to be something they both remember fondly.

Neither of them speak or move. Sergio can barely stand the intense build-up of tension between them; it feels as though it’s smothering him. He needs to go. He can’t be around Geri while he’s behaving like this.

“Tell you what,” Sergio says quietly. “I’ll go downstairs and tell reception we need them to move us. I’d rather sleep in the laundry room than in here with you.”

Now, the tables are turned. It is Geri who visibly flinches, lifting a shaking hand to his brow, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“Sergio, Sergio.” Geri squeezes his shoulder. His voice becomes melodious, and he has the same kind of expression on his face as he does when he’s trying to convince a referee of his innocence. “Let’s not be dramatic.”

Sergio widens his eyes. Is_ he _being the dramatic one?

“It’s just one night,” Geri says. “It’s not going to hurt either of us. Surely, we can handle this situation like adults.”

Sergio glares at him in disbelief.

“Come on.” Geri stands aside, holding the door open for him. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Sergio hesitates for a moment, wondering if this is Geri’s idea of a practical joke. Maybe Geri’s pretending; perhaps he’ll slam the door right in Sergio’s face. Surely, he won’t relent this easily. Sergio clenches his fists, readying himself… and storms right past Geri and into their room.

-

Sergio heads straight for a shower, silently praying it’ll help settle his nerves.

He leans forward against the bathroom tiles and lets the hot water flow over his tired muscles, watching as steam rises from his skin.

It makes no sense to him, this game he and Geri are playing, always teetering somewhere between hot and cold, never quite knowing where they stand with each other.

Sergio feels a dizzying, magnetic pull towards Geri, and he has no idea how to make it go away.

He dries himself with a towel, putting a clean t-shirt and boxer shorts on. Sergio figures being naked around Geri is a terrible idea – it’s asking for trouble.

Reluctantly, Sergio leaves the bathroom. Geri doesn’t appear to notice him returning, he’s far too engrossed in some American basketball game on TV, and his thumbs are moving up and down as he texts avidly on his phone. He’s already chosen the right side of the bed, Sergio notices, and a flash of annoyance surges through him because that’s the side _he_ likes to sleep on. Geri must know because that’s the side Sergio chose the last time this happened.

Briefly, he wonders if Geri is acting like this to be rude, or if he can’t remember. He supposes it doesn’t make much of a difference.

With a scowl, Sergio grabs the pillows from his side of the bed. He throws them onto the floor and grabs a blanket. Sergio lies down on the makeshift bed, not giving a damn about how uncomfortable it is.

His shoulder gives a sudden, sharp stab of pain, and Sergio groans in agony under his breath. Eventually, Sergio knows he’s going to need surgery for this injury – it’s been causing him problems for what feels like forever. He curses his body for letting him down tonight of all nights.

Sergio hears Geri mute the TV. He leans over the side of the bed, staring at Sergio wide-eyed.

“Sergio, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep,” he replies, rubbing his shoulder.

“You’re in pain.”

“I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me.”

Despite the fact it makes more discomfort shoot up his arm, Sergio manages to turn over, ignoring him.

“Come on, man.” Geri sighs. “Get into bed with me. You’re being stupid.”

Sergio can’t find an adequate reply.

“You know your shoulder’s going to be a whole lot sorer in the morning if you don’t rest up properly,” Geri says, pursing his lips together.

Sergio tilts his head slightly, looking at Geri. It hurts to move, and he wants nothing more than to climb into a comfy bed. He isn’t sure he can handle any more of their bickering tonight. He stares at Geri, considering how close they’ll have to be if they share a bed again; it makes his heart leap. The hotel room seems to become more claustrophobic by the second.

“Are you really going to keep giving me the silent treatment?” Geri drops back flat onto the bed. “Geez, it’s going to be a long fucking night.” He breathes heavily. “Alright, maybe I deserve it. I was a dick to you earlier.”

“Yeah,” Sergio says, through gritted teeth. “You were.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Sergio wishes he could see him; wishes he could try to read Geri’s expression.

“Why is it so difficult for us to be around each other?” Sergio asks wearily, staring at the ceiling. “I mean, you’re supposed to be the intelligent one. Please fucking enlighten me, because it’s driving me insane.”

He hears Geri shift on the bed, clearing his throat.

“I don’t know,” he replies, voice wavering. “I mean, I have my theories.”

“Elaborate.”

“Not tonight.” He coughs again. “Maybe one day.”

Silence lingers in the air. Sergio searches his mind; tries to make sense of their conundrum.

“Do you have a problem with me professionally?” He asks.

Geri laughs deeply, heartily. “No, Sergio. As much as other people seem to want to believe it, I don’t think our issues with each other have anything to do with football.”

Sergio finds it impossible to breathe as Geri’s words start to sink in, permeating him to the core. He can’t even begin to contemplate their possible ramifications.

Seconds pass, maybe minutes.

“Alright, I’m getting into bed.” Sergio gets up, wincing.

Geri half-smiles at Sergio. “Let’s try to be nice to each other,” he says.

“Nice to each other.” Sergio nods tiredly.

The bed gives a slow creak as Sergio lowers himself onto it, and both he and Geri start to laugh in hushed tones.

“Even this bed is done with our shit,” Geri says, scratching his beard.

“I don’t blame it,” Sergio replies.

The atmosphere lightens, and Sergio feels as though he can breathe more easily again. He knows he will have to try not to think about how much he wants Geri tonight. No more playing hot and cold, no matter how easily they fall into their roles and do it.

Sergio adjusts his pillows and lies down, resting his head. The mattress immediately soothes his back. Instinctively, he reaches up with his hand and starts rubbing his shoulder again.

“You still in pain?”

Sergio nods, grimacing. “I’ll get a massage in the morning, maybe an injection if I’m lucky.”

“Wait, I might have something you can use.”

Geri stoops over and reaches into his bag, and Sergio can hear various things rustle as he searches through it.

“Here,” he says, handing Sergio a gel heat pack. “Try this. Sometimes it helps when my knee’s playing up. Physios are always telling us how good ice is supposed to be, but when there are tendons involved, I find the heat better. It gets the blood flowing, helps your body heal itself.”

Sergio stares at him, his mouth half-open. “Thanks, I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

“We’re being nice to each other, remember?” Geri hesitates. “Besides… I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“Thanks again,” he whispers. Sergio’s beginning to wonder if he’s capable of handling Geri being nice to him; it scrambles his thoughts, messes with his head, as well as his body.

“Once you’re warmed up, I can rub it for you if you like, you know, to build up the friction. I find it really therapeutic.”

“You can… _what_?” Sergio swallows hard; his mind starts to go into overdrive. He can feel his cheeks flushing red with heat and colour.

“Your shoulder.” Geri gives him a smug smile. “I wasn’t offering to build up friction for you anywhere else.”

Sergio grins, but his pulse is still racing. He wishes Geri would stop using words like ‘rub’ and ‘friction’. He wonders how it would feel to have Geri’s long fingers touch his skin.

“What did you think I thought you were offering?” Sergio manages to ask, raising his eyebrows.

Geri smirks, but Sergio can see his face is reddening too. It drives him mad, the idea of Geri getting flustered.

They need to stop this, right now.

But maybe it’s just one teammate helping another teammate, Sergio considers. They’re being_ nice _to each other. They’re proving they can co-exist, and they both need to try harder if they want to improve their relationship.

It would be rude to decline Geri’s kind offer; his olive branch.

Sergio takes his t-shirt off and places the heat pad on his shoulder. Geri reaches over, touching the top of it with his fingers, his arm brushing against Sergio’s bare chest. The hairs on the back of Sergio’s neck stand to attention and his heart rate soars. He feels so vulnerable here, lying underneath Geri like this.

“Is it warm yet?” Geri asks.

Sergio stares up at him helplessly.

“Sergio?”

Sergio nods. Their eyes lock, neither of them seem to want to look away.

With a trembling hand, Geri removes the heat pad, resting his fingers where it lay.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable at first,” he says. “But if it starts to hurt too much, you have to tell me to stop.”

“Okay.” Sergio remains perfectly still, as though he’s frozen on the spot.

Geri uses his fingers and the palm of his hand to work in small circles over Sergio’s shoulder muscle. Gradually, he increases the speed, and Sergio can feel the heat building, as though it’s working deep down inside on the injured tendons.

At first it feels weird, then it feels as though it might be doing something.

“Hmm,” Sergio moans, arching his head back.

“See, it doesn’t have to be that intense,” Geri says, eyes focused on Sergio’s shoulder. “It’s not even proven to work, but I think it stimulates the tissue to heal naturally – it feels kind of good after a while, too.”

But Sergio zones out, and he’s not really listening to anything Geri’s saying any more.

He enjoys having Geri’s hands on him; being the centre of his attention. If Geri is this capable with his fingers, Sergio wonders what Geri might be able to do with various other parts of his body.

The massage continues, Geri intensifying the pressure of his hand working against the muscle. Sergio’s pain begins to diminish, not disappearing completely, but subsiding enough for him to feel considerable relief. Maybe he will sleep tonight, after all.

Geri’s gaze seems to wander down along the length of Sergio’s chest, his torso. Sergio hears him softly clear his throat and swallow hard, and their eyes meet again. It’s like a war of nerves over who will give in and look away first. Sergio stares at Geri intently, getting lost in those baby blue eyes, realising he’d give himself completely to Geri here and now if only he’d say he wanted it too.

“I think…” Geri stutters. “I think that’s enough now; I should stop.”

Geri takes his hand away, and Sergio’s skin feels cold where seconds ago, it was warm, and he was perfectly content. There’s a sinking feeling in Sergio’s chest as he longs for them to touch again. He needs Geri like he needs air; Sergio doesn’t think he can survive another decade of them teasing each other, coming so close to getting together, only to back out again at the last second.

Sergio loses the last of his inhibitions before he even realises what he’s doing, reaching up to grab Geri’s hand, placing it on the left side of his chest.

He wants to say, _can’t you feel what you’re doing to me, how crazy you make me? _His heart thumps rapidly. _This_, he thinks, _this is because of you_.

No one else has come close to making Sergio feel the plethora of emotions Geri rouses in him.

“Don’t stop,” Sergio says, barely above begging. “Please don’t stop.”

Geri freezes; closes his eyes. “Sergio, I have to stop.”

He rolls back over onto his side of the bed, leaving Sergio staring haplessly at the ceiling.

Everything Geri does makes Sergio believe he wants him; that he cares for him.

And yet, they can’t go any further.

Sergio doesn’t ask Geri why; doesn’t assume (for once) he’s done anything wrong. No means no – it is time for him to accept it.

Geri turns away, pushing himself onto the edge of the bed. He fidgets with the duvet; picks his phone up again, checks it, and puts it back on the bedside table. Reaching into his suitcase, he lifts out his wash bag, a toothbrush and toothpaste. His movements are quick, eager. It’s as though Geri’s suddenly caffeinated, and just watching him being so hyperactive tires Sergio out.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” Geri says without looking back.

“Okay,” Sergio whispers, fighting to maintain his composure.

-

Sergio dims the lights and puts his AirPods into his ears. He finds his favourite chillout playlist and listens to the slow strums of an acoustic guitar, building into a gentle rumba. All flamenco music brims with passion and emotion, and Sergio concedes, as the song makes a shiver run down his spine, that lyrics about a lost love may not be the best for him to listen to tonight.

When he turns off the music, he can hear the shower pump running in the en suite bathroom. Sergio’s lost track of time, but he knows Geri has been in there for far longer than he needs to be. He sighs, ignoring the stab of sadness that presses in his chest.

Sergio closes his eyes, his breathing slows.

The bed creaks as Geri lowers himself onto it and crawls in. They have their backs to each other, and Geri shuffles just close enough for their bodies to brush together. Sergio feels Geri clawing at the duvet and realises he may be hogging too much of it. He lets go of it, feels it go slack in his hand before Geri claims more for himself.

“There’s not much room, is there?” Geri’s voice is soft, languid.

“I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone taller than me,” Sergio replies.

“I’m sorry,” Geri whispers.

“We should’ve seen if they had a different room, I guess.”

“No, Sergio,” Geri says. “I’m sorry about everything else.”

-

It’s 7 AM when Sergio wakes.

For a moment, it feels like any other morning on international duty – Sergio’s groggy, and he wants a coffee, so he begins to think about getting up to join the rest of the team for a light breakfast before training.

Then, Sergio remembers who he’s rooming with.

He turns over and finds Geri lying flat in the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sergio’s stomach does somersaults; he tries hard to push the feeling away, to bury it, just like Geri wants him to.

“Did you sleep well?” Sergio asks.

Geri shakes his head, his expression unchanging. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It usually gives me hell in the morning,” Sergio says. “It goes stiff overnight and locks up, but it doesn’t seem as bad today. Thanks again for helping me.”

“That’s okay.” Geri breathes deeply.

“So, were you too uncomfortable to sleep?”

“No.” Geri tilts his head towards Sergio. “I couldn’t get my mind to switch off.”

Sergio frowns, biting his lip. He knows he’s the reason for Geri’s insomnia. He wishes they could resolve this; that they could stop making each other so unhappy.

“It’s my fault,” Sergio says, looking away.

Geri makes a sighing noise and laces his fingers together. “I guess it is, technically.”

Sergio laughs under his breath.

“It’s just that we’d be so… combustible, if we ever got together,” Geri says. “And I don’t – I don’t want it to go wrong.”

Sergio sits up straight; his mouth is slightly ajar. “Have you… is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

Geri nods, rubbing his eyes.

“Jesus Christ.” Sergio feels as though the room is spinning, as though life as he knows it may stop altogether.

Their eyes meet, and Sergio reaches over, touching Geri’s cheek with his thumb and forefinger.

“Maybe I want combustible,” Sergio whispers. “Maybe I’m sick of hooking up with people for the sake of it – _nice_ people, who I’m sure would be faithful to me, who would try to make me happy, who would be perfectly adequate, I suppose… except for the fact they’d never be _you_.”

Geri sits up and leans in, so their faces are even closer.

“Maybe I want someone who’s my match, someone who dares to disagree with me, someone who riles me, as well as loves me… have you ever thought about that?”

It’s the most Sergio’s ever said without Geri interrupting him.

Geri raises his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “Wow,” he says. “Wow.”

Sergio holds his breath, shifting slightly. He’s half-expecting Geri to get up, grab his suitcase, and leave their room for good.

But he stays.

_Say something_, Sergio thinks. _Just fucking say something_.

“Is it really this hard for us to admit we like each other?” Geri asks, half-smiling.

Sergio nods. “We’re both stubborn bastards.”

“We really are,” Geri replies, laughing quietly.

“So, what now?” Sergio asks.

Geri inches closer, Sergio can feel Geri’s breath, hot on his face. He cups Sergio’s face in his hands, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, presses their lips together.

“This,” he whispers against Sergio’s mouth. “This is what happens next.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, don't injure your tendons, lads. Friction massages are also, in no way pleasurable. At least mine never were, but they did help with the pain :P


End file.
